Loctudy to Port Tudy

Holiday in Camaret over, it was time to move on once more. Our chosen route took us via the Raz de Sein to Loctudy, a distance of some 55 miles.

As mentioned in a previous post, the Raz (pronounced Raah) has to be treated with respect. To ensure "the least uncomfortable conditions" you aim to pass through it at slack water, on the expiry of the north going stream. For us, this meant leaving Camaret at about 0930 – luxury compared to our normal departure times!

Once again the wind was fluky and, whilst we did get a few hours of sailing in, we had to motor sail most of it. This is not my favourite way of making progress and especially so when the engine overheat alarm now forces us to keep our engine speed down to 1700rpm. This, combined with Cyclone’s dirty bottom, restricts speed under motor alone to 4 knots in flat water - frankly soul destroying when you have a long distance ahead of you. More on the engine later…

The downside of leaving later is that you arrive later (not exactly rocket science that!) and so it was that we made it to Loctudy just before sunset at around 2200. We were guided to a vacant berth by some friendly Brits I’d chatted to in Camaret and retired after showers for a decent kip in nice, quiet surroundings.

Leaving Camaret and passing the Pointe du Toulinguet

Something of a rarity lately - actually sailing!

The Raz de Sein on a quiet day. La Vieille lighthouse and La Plate cardinal

Look carefully and you'll see a dolphin top left. We saw several

Rounding Pointe de Penmarc'h

Racing the sun - our approach to Loctudy

Loctudy's lighthouse

Loctudy's a pleasant enough place with a small town and great views – both up river and out to sea. It's also an important fishing hub, with a large fishing harbour surrounded by all the paraphernalia that goes with landing large quantities of fish. There are plenty of marine support services there too, which enabled me to source some Volvo Penta oil (at the usual extortionate price) and change the engine oil before moving on. I thought the old girl deserved some new blood after spending so much of her time running near the top of her designed temperature range!

We saw this and thought of you Jim!

Loctudy street. Just off the town centre and yet so rural

Loctudy again. Part of the former tide mill reservoir, I think

One of Loctudy's beaches. Can't build much closer to the sea than that!

And then they parked this next to us. An absolute beauty that prompted me to give Cyclone a wash!

After Loctudy we made the giant leap – some 12 miles! – to Concarneau.

Concarneau's marina lies in the shadow of the attractive walled town "La Ville Close" – think St. Malo, but smaller and yet somehow more impressive. It's known for being a busy marina so we grabbed the first vacant berth we saw. This gave us a nice view of the approach but left us vulnerable to the wash of passing fishing boats. The rush hour in Concarneau is from 0200 to 0400, 2 nights of which were enough to convince us to move on!

La Ville Close's wall - Concarneau

More wall and entrance to La Ville Close

Inside La Ville Close

Traditional craft providing sailing trips for tourists

One of Concarneau's beaches

Port de la Croix, Concarneau

Cyclone with La Ville Close's wall in the background

Our next destination was the Iles de Glenan, a distance of almost 10 miles. There's very little there, which is actually the point. It's a small archipelago (Stockholm doesn’t need to worry!) with clear water and white sandy beaches, some of which cover and uncover with each tide. You can anchor or pick up a mooring – the latter occupy the prime spots nearest to the beaches – but you'd only want to be there in fine weather as it's really rather exposed.

Fine weather was what we had, so all was well apart from some swell near high water at our first mooring site. This encouraged Cyclone to do an impression of those nodding dogs you see on cars' rear parcel shelves. At least there were no fishing boats to disturb us though!

Sunset from our Ile de Saint Nicholas mooring, Iles de Glenan

Another view from the same mooring

Action shot of securing to a buoy! Note the clear water

The “nodding” encouraged us to seek out a slightly more sheltered spot for our second night. It was here that I had the idea of snorkelling to see how fouled Cyclone’s hull was and to check the state of her anodes. 

Strange sea life spotted in Iles de Glenan. Is it alive do you think? Interesting stripes too!

What I saw wasn't great. There was fouling near the bow and waterline that I couldn't shift with my trusty broom(!) and 4 little square carpets of “grass” where Cyclone had been supported by her cradle when last ashore. Clearly slapping a bit of antifoul on those areas just before she's dropped back into the water doesn't really cut it! There was slime over the rest of the hull and I managed to get quite a bit of that off, although I couldn’t do much about the stuff on the keel which was beyond my comfortable reach.

The main anode still has a bit of life in it but I couldn't make out the shaft anode at all. Hopefully there’s a bit left under the fur that’s attached itself to the shaft and the outside of the folding prop blades. Note to self: the boat will need to come out annually in future if we intend to continue clocking up larger than average mileages!

It's kind of surreal being under your boat and seeing her hovering a few feet off the seabed. It's also a bit nippy in these waters at this time of year and so, after about an hour, I'd had enough. At least I didn't “scream like a girl” as some other swimmers did on getting in. I'm tough, me!

Something out of Mad Max that moored next to us!

It was nearly 30 miles to our next destination of Port Tudy, Ile de Groix.

Ile de Penfret which we passed en route to Port Tudy

Like Concarneau, Port Tudy has a reputation for filling up its limited visitor pontoon berths quickly. The alternative - rafting 3 abreast to fore and aft buoys - didn't hold much appeal for us.

It was with this in mind that we nervously watched the boat behind reeling us in under motor as we neared the entrance (no wind once again for the last part of the trip) and no less than 3 yachts approaching the harbour entrance from the opposite direction. It was shaping up for a photo finish when the harbour played its joker – the appearance, at speed, of the ferry from the mainland which has right of way over all other traffic.

I went for the inside line and followed the ferry in, confident of victory, when a small French yacht slipped through an impossibly small gap I'd left open on my port side.

All was not lost though. Just as we rounded the inner breakwater – and after the sneaky French yacht had passed her – a yacht began to motor out of her berth ahead of us. With room for just 2 boats to pass each other, those following were thwarted as I gunned Cyclone towards the vacated berth. This welcomed us with space to spare for a fag paper between us and the neighbouring boat.

I think one other boat secured a pontoon but it was to the buoys with the rest of them. Ah, the sweet smell of success!

Entrance to Port Tudy. Note ferry ahead

Port Tudy harbour with Cyclone just visible on her berth inside

It turned out that Port Tudy was hosting a regatta on the weekend of our visit and we were fortunate to be accommodated at all on the Friday and Saturday nights. However, we didn’t feel especially lucky in the early hours of Sunday morning. Read on to find out why....

We had some pleasant walks on the island which is, once again, a really attractive place. Brittany certainly has plenty to offer the tourist in search of decent walking and natural beauty. We also enjoyed some live music in a local bar courtesy of “The adventures of” - a 3 piece band comprising guitar, bass and drummer that made a fantastic sound between them. Oh to be so talented!

Port Melite beach, Ile de Groix

Port Tudy from the cliff walk

Looking along the south coast of Ile de Groix

View towards Pointe des Chats

Pointe des Chats. Now if anyone asks you what is the point of cats, you can say "a place on Ile de Groix" before basking in their admiration and respect for your knowledge (or not!)

Les Sables Rouges - a beach on Ilde de Groix with red sand

Plages des Grands-Sables

Back to the regatta then. Now I have been known to enjoy a drink or two but I don't understand the need to drink to the point of becoming obnoxious, excessively loud and incapable (I don't need to drink to be obnoxious!). Regrettably some of those taking part in the regatta – and predictably those on the boats nearest to us – clearly enjoyed their drink to the point where they lost all consideration for those who might be attempting to sleep nearby and, in two cases, their sense of balance too. 

So it was that at 0200, amid the shouts of returning revellers, I heard a splash and felt Cyclone’s bow being clouted as one of their number slipped on the pontoon and almost disappeared between the two.

Next, at about 0300 and after I'd almost nodded off, I heard a large splash followed by slurred shouting as yet another reveller lost his balance – this time going completely into the water whilst attempting to climb aboard his yacht.

By this time I'd have happily let him (and any others) drown, but regrettably he clearly wasn't going to do so quietly. Realising that hypothermia was also some way off, I had no choice but to get dressed and pull him out. I couldn't manage this alone – he wasn't able to help much himself – but fortunately someone else appeared from a nearby boat and we were able to retrieve him. He was so grateful that, when after 2 attempts he'd finally managed to stand, he rewarded me by giving me a full manly hug. Great. Three o'clock in the morning and I'm being hugged by a soggy Frenchman….

But the night wasn't over yet. Not long after we'd dosed off following this latest episode we were awakened by yet more shouting. A group on a large catamaran had clearly now brought their party home and were shouting, whistling, laughing and screaming; basically making as much noise as possible. This was about 0500 - it would be light soon for goodness sake! I give up! Earplugs in, a couple more (disturbed) hours sleep and we were out of there!

We're now in Port Louis near Lorient where thankfully we had a great night's sleep last night. 

Approach to Port Louis

Back to the engine: we've just returned from visiting the Volvo Penta dealer in Lorient with a view to having an engineer give Cyclone's engine a descaling. I've concluded that the overheating can't be due to just the compromised heat exchanger as the engine's getting too hot whilst being asked to supply so little power - way less than half of its rated output. I therefore think that some of the small holes in the engine's water jacket, and specifically its water distribution pipe, must be blocked such that the coolant is not able to circulate within the engine properly. Removal of the pipe, which is pressed into the cylinder head, requires a correctly sized drift which I don't have and, frankly, I'm nervous about filling the cooling system with acid so would rather entrust this job to someone else.

Unsurprisingly the dealer wants to do their own diagnosis so they're going to visit the boat while we're back home in England - we fly back for a week tomorrow to visit the olds - and then contact me with their diagnosis and, presumably, an estimate. The prospect of a hefty bill looms, but the overheating is just becoming impossible to ignore.

Wish me - and Jo's girlie purse - luck!

Thanks for reading.